


The Immovable Object

by Nicholas_Lucien



Category: Forever Knight
Genre: Angst, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:14:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21626638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicholas_Lucien/pseuds/Nicholas_Lucien
Summary: What happens when two extremes try to occupy the same space?
Relationships: Nicholas Knight/Lucien LaCroix
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	The Immovable Object

**Author's Note:**

> This story was prompted by the irresistible force paradox (which actually has many answers), which is mentioned in the monologue. My only excuse for this story is I should not write very late at night.
> 
> I do not own these characters and is not intended to infringe upon any copyright owners. No profit is being made from this work.

“Nicholas,” LaCroix wearily began again, “you have to drink.” He indicated the corked bottle on his desk. “Either this or,” he gestured to the mortals in the control room on the other side of the glass from his radio booth.

Nick didn’t bother to look where his sire indicated. “I’ve told you before,” he rumbled, “I won’t.”

“You cannot deny what you are and what you need,” LaCroix reiterated as he closed the curtain, blocking the view of the mortals. He turned to face his seated son. “I can tell you have not fed-”

“Stop,” Nick commanded while raising his palm outward. “Stop trying to force me to change.”

“If not human blood, then some other blood,” LaCroix persisted.

“No,” Nick insisted, as he slowly rose out of the chair. “I can’t continue like this. I can’t live off blood anymore – any blood. I can’t-”

LaCroix moved quickly and caught Nicholas before the younger vampire toppled over. A moment later, his son righted himself and jerked away from his touch. “Nicholas,” LaCroix implored, “you cannot continue like this.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you are not. You are hurting yourself - starving yourself,” LaCroix bluntly pointed out. “I worry-”

“Don’t,” Nick interrupted as he headed towards the door to leave. “I don’t know why I come to you anymore.”

LaCroix watched the unsteady progress, ready to catch him again should he fall, and knowing Nicholas would not welcome such assistance if provided. “There was a time when you never hesitated to come to me.”

Nick braced himself against the doorjamb, then turned to face his maker. “That part of me, and so much more, is long in the past.”

“That part is still here. Remember, you sought me out tonight.”

“No, that part was finally staked and burned away. You remember that moment, don’t you?” Nick harshly retorted.

LaCroix clenched his jaw and said nothing as he watched his stubborn son depart. He felt out along their shared mental link, then quickly recoiled in response to the prickled sting of Nicholas’ sharp rebuff. Issuing a low, deep growl of annoyance, LaCroix sank down into his booth chair. From this distance he could at least monitor that his child was flying home instead of driving. He waited some more, confident that Nicholas would turn on the radio when he arrived - his child was a creature of habit.

LaCroix stared at the microphone, but his thoughts were elsewhere, back to when Nicholas was much younger and more receptive to him. His relationship was initially one of teacher to pupil, but over time their bond deepened. First, they were inseparable in their public lives, then later, inseparable in their private lives. The time did not matter - night or day - they were with each other. Then, Nicholas started to pull away from him before finally turning on him and what he represented. LaCroix pushed his fingertips into his brow and rubbed. He had tried to bring his child back, tried to bring back those relationships and bonds, tried to bring his son back from what he was doing to himself, but Nicholas refused to move. LaCroix sighed as he dropped his hand. It was almost as if his son wanted to be lost and destroyed, he ruminated. He finally reached to bring the microphone closer and clicked the button on his panel that switched off the music that had been playing. LaCroix leaned in, the better for the microphone to pick up his low, deep voice.

“A riddle, Gentle Listener, to begin the night with,” he slowly intoned. “What would happen when an unstoppable force met an immovable object? The universe, it is said, would shake and tremble with such a paradoxical collision. Worlds shalt be torn asunder, debris and destruction littered in their wake. And what of yourself, what becomes of you, Listener?” LaCroix delicately ran his fingertips down the neck of the glass bottle. “You cannot survive it, there is no way to escape. And yet, some part of you must want this to occur. Why else would we imagine such a bleak riddle in the first place? Do we want to believe that all relationships must crumble and fall apart? That this is a natural, inevitable conclusion; a path that is fated to never be avoided? Is this what the immovable object truly wants? A new and better existence is not created from your intractability, but-”

Without hesitation, LaCroix grabbed the unopened bottle off the desk and bolted out of the room.

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

LaCroix took in the state of his son as he dropped into the bricked warehouse. Nicholas was sprawled prostrate upon the floor in front of the fireplace, his right arm on the coffee table in the attempt to lever himself up. LaCroix placed the bottle near the edge of the table, then moved the nearby black leather chair closer and sat down. “Nicholas.” He repeated himself until his son turned dulled slate blue eyes up to him. “You cannot ignore this anymore – you need blood.”

Nick began to drag one leg closer to his chest while pushing up with his left arm. “Leave me, LaCroix. I can take care of myself.” He clenched his eyes closed.

LaCroix arched an eyebrow in response to Nicholas’ assertion. “Clearly. And if you do manage to get up, then what?” He glanced over at the refrigerator. “Is there anything in there that will help you, or simply more of the good doctor’s dreck?” His son did not respond and now seemed to have abandoned the attempt to get up any more than he already had. LaCroix concentrated on his connection to Nicholas, detecting a slip of consciousness like a wave gently falling back into the sea. He knew he had to get his child to drink; he did not want to try and force Nicholas nor endure the aftereffects from such an action. LaCroix got out of the chair and dropped to a knee beside the low table. “You have to drink, Nicholas,” he entreated while indicating the bottle of human blood that was in front of him. “Will you drink this?”

“No.”

The link with Nicholas vibrated as LaCroix felt powerful waves crashing within his son – the basic instincts for survival were surfacing. Nicholas raised his head and LaCroix saw the gleaming eyes of the emerged vampire. He nudged the bottle closer. Delight turned to dismay as Nicholas initially reached out for the bottle, but then pushed it off the table and onto the floor. His son followed moments after, issuing a frustrated hiss upon impact.

Reaching for the bottle, LaCroix managed to capture it before it rolled too far away, then placed it on the coffee table again. Taking his jacket off, he sat down on the floor, took hold of Nicholas, and dragged his son over. Positioning Nicholas’ back securely on his own chest, LaCroix leaned slightly backwards, then reached for the bottle. Once reclaimed, he removed the cork and held the opened bottle near Nicholas’ face, hoping the younger vampire would smell the human blood and voluntarily take the liquid. Every sense told LaCroix that Nicholas was responding and he saw his son’s hand reach for the bottle. But as before, the roused vampire knocked the bottle away.

Releasing a growl of annoyance that Nicholas would still stubbornly refuse what he really needed, LaCroix reached with his left hand to catch the bottle before all the blood spilled out. Focused on placing the bottle safely on the table and not so much on his son, he was taken aback by a sharp pain in his right wrist. LaCroix did not have time to see what had happened before the pain stopped, Nicholas twisted around, and his shirt was ripped opened. He tilted his head just before Nicholas struck his neck, the sharp predatory fangs easily penetrating through the skin and reaching a blood vessel. LaCroix sighed while leaning onto the chair, letting the piece of furniture support him while his son drank. He partially closed his eyes as he sensed his child’s basic need for his healing blood, which was what had driven Nicholas to push the bottle away – his son had actually been trying to reach for him.

LaCroix did not shift while Nicholas took what he needed, and felt his son’s mind change as the body began to heal. The crashing mental waves eventually stopped and in their calm wake stray memories began to bob past him. LaCroix ignored these and they drifted by. Nicholas’ fangs eventually retracted and his son dropped down and curled upon his chest. As Nicholas slipped into slumber, LaCroix sensed something deeper rise up. Recognizing a desire he had felt long ago, LaCroix smiled as he closed his eyes and rested. 

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

LaCroix awoke to the sensation of fingers moving across his bare chest and held still while Nicholas explored.

Nick knew his maker was awake; after taking blood, which also opened their connection more, he was very aware of LaCroix and was responsive to that. Since there was no move to stop him, he continued to let his fingers trace along the skin surface. Nick was also sorting through memories and emotions that had been triggered by their connection – his personal ones from when they had been close, and LaCroix’s from earlier that night at the radio station. It had surprised him what LaCroix still longed for, and how easy it had been for him to want that, too. Nick stopped when he came in contact with scar tissue near his sire’s heart.

LaCroix opened his eyes and looked down. “Wounds to the heart are the slowest to heal.” He paused until Nicholas looked up at him. “Physically … and emotionally.”

Nick turned away from his sire’s ice blue eyes. “I’m sorry.”

LaCroix partially closed his eyes, feeling their link and knowing Nicholas retained guilt about trying to kill him. LaCroix projected through their connection, encouraging his son to let go of the guilt and know he was forgiven. It was all he could do without revealing more than he wanted to. LaCroix had no intention of explaining that every vampire directly before him had killed their own makers; it was almost their inheritance or birthright. He put his hand over Nicholas’ when his son tried to pull away from the healing scar. “I do not fault you for that, Nicholas.”

With a tug, Nick managed to slip his hand away. “I wasn’t referring to that.”

LaCroix cocked his head, contemplating his son. “Then what are you sorry for? Sorry that you deprived yourself of the sustenance you need? Sorry that you needed help?” LaCroix paused. Even though he had felt what was still in Nicholas, that did not mean Nicholas would ever act upon it, and more likely would recoil from it if he found himself responding. LaCroix knew there was too long a history of animosity and distrust between them. “Sorry,” he whispered, “that you are with me? Sorry that you cannot stay with me?”

Nick shook his head against LaCroix’s chest. “I’m sorry I never told you sooner. I’m sorry I kept this from you for so long. I didn’t think you still wanted me, like that, after everything that had happened between us.”

“I had thought you did not want that anymore. I-”

Nick reached up and silenced Lucien with a passionate kiss. He closed his eyes, feeling their connection vibrate, the intensity increasing with each subsequent kiss. His fangs dropped and Nick pulled away. Opening his eyes, Nick saw the golden eyes of his lover staring back and the slight bulges under the lips caused by fully extended fangs.

Lucien looked up at his beloved, saw the green-edged golden eyes and the fang tips just visible through Nicholas’ tiny smile. He reached up to capture those lips in a kiss while grasping Nicholas’ shirt and ripping it open as his own had been. Lucien reminded himself there would be other times when he would take this much more slowly, but now was not that time. Taking hold of Nicholas, he rolled them both over and away from the leather chair. With reluctance, he broke away from the kiss, his action producing a moan from Nicholas.

Though disappointed that the kiss ended, Nick took the open opportunity to use his freed mouth for another activity. With a low rumble to vocalize his passion and need, he grabbed Lucien’s shoulders and sank his fangs into the yielding skin of the neck. All of Nick’s senses were focused on Lucien’s blood and their shared connection, and was only aware that he had been bitten because their connection completely opened. Memories were shared first, then emotions, then the core of themselves, then there was nothing.

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

Gradually, Nick woke up. He felt slightly disconnected, unanchored, but that was because of their sharing, and he knew the sensations would soon dissipate. What he was laying upon shifted, and Nick automatically tensed in response. Strong arms enveloped him and passion reverberated through the link with his maker. Nick relaxed and looked around. They were both on the leather couch, Lucien stretched out and on the edge while he was closest to the back cushions and was mostly on top and facing his lover. Nick settled back down into the comfortable position he had been in.

Once Nicholas relaxed, LaCroix released him. He then used his free hand to lightly stroke his beloved’s back, and they stayed together like this for some time. LaCroix stopped when he felt Nicholas’ hunger rise and become insistent. LaCroix partially sat up, Nicholas shifting to accommodate, and he reached over to the table next to the couch for the bottle he had brought. Not wanting to end their close intimacy, instead of going over to get a glass as he would have preferred, LaCroix instead drank straight from the bottle. He then looked at his hungry child.

Nick levered himself upright, scrutinizing his sire and the bottle in his hand. “I listened to your broadcast.”

“I am flattered you tune in to hear my little hobby.”

“I’m not an immovable object.” Nick saw LaCroix’s brow arch upwards. He reached over and took the bottle. He knew LaCroix wasn’t always correct, but Nick knew he had pushed himself too far and did need to heal properly. He was grateful LaCroix was the one who had found him and not Nat or Schanke, whom he could have attacked as the vampire sought out what it needed to survive. “I’m not,” Nick stubbornly reiterated, as he brought the bottle to his lips and drank.

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

“A riddle, Gentle Listener, to end the night with,” LaCroix slowly intoned. “What would happen when an unstoppable force met an immovable object? Sometimes, surprisingly, we find that the force is not as … inexorable … as assured, and the immovable object is more … yielding … than previously assumed. Some part of us must want this to occur. Perhaps that is why the question is asked, to force ourselves to consider an answer. To confirm to ourselves that a single bleak destructive outcome implied by such a query is not the only conclusion, but one of many. Thus, survival is possible. And we all want the chance to survive, do we not? A chance for our relationships to survive these inevitable collisions?”

With a push of a button, LaCroix clicked off the microphone. He partially closed his eyes, concentrating on his vibrating mental link, a smile upon his lips. He sensed his previously immovable object moving down the hall. LaCroix grabbed the unopened bottle of blood from the desk and headed towards the door. He was looking forward to spending another day with Nicholas.


End file.
